Commanding Officer Oxton
by The Other Side of Darkness
Summary: AU Shorts. A series of drabbles and one shots, vaguely connected by the Idea that Tracer, Lena Oxton, is the CO of Overwatch. Various scenes of Tracer stomping all over whomever her enemy is with a skip to her step and a smile on her face.
1. Chapter 1

My favorite character in Overwatch, no surprise, is Tracer. I find her absolutely heavenly to play, zipping about, quick as the wind, ruining a person's day by being just annoying enough to take their attention away from the more lethal characters.

The greatest moment in my Overwatch gaming experience was, after repeatedly killing a Mercy to keep her from resurrecting her team mates, the player sent me a message with only the following word, "Fag." Absolutely made my month.

As such, I have three stories I am going to try to be actively working on. This one, which will be a series of shorts and one shots, Codename Falcon, and Feast.

If anyone reading this is a fan of Feast, unlikely as that may be, I have to confess that there was an unfortunate delay. It is being rectified, slowly, but it is in the works, I promise.

Now, on with the Show!

 **Edit: I changed up the fight scene a little so that it says a bit more than, "She kicked their collective asses. The End."**

Chapter One: Commanding Officer

Overwatch had been ressurrected by Winston and operational for twenty one months. The ape had been doing a hell of a job, leading the reactivated agents and the new recruits in the the fight against Talon and a corporation called Vishkar. They'd had victories, losses and draws.

The battle was one that could never stay in the shadows for long. Recently it had been brought to the light, broadcast world wide by a news agency that had been at the scene of their latest skirmish with Talon.

And now, a military force was beating down their doors with all the ferocity of a raging rhino. It was only a matter of time before they had the agents in custody. Sure, it would be fairly easy for them to escape, but to do so without causing casualties? That would be much harder.

Seventy Six did't really seem to mind that much, caring little for those that got in his way. McCree was conflicted. If he surrendered, he couldn't be making up for his criminal past. If he killed these guys, he'd just be adding to what he had to make up for. Zarya had already set her weapon down. Tracer...

Tracer was spinning about in an office chair, laughing like a child.

The door busted down, finally, and thirty soldiers poured in, weapons raised and ready. Behind them, in his dress blues, so to speak, came a three star general named Falkes.

"Ladies and gentlemen," He began, his voice rumbling with aged vigor, "You have one chance, lay down your arms and designate your commanding officer. If you do not, twenty nine of the men here will open fire. The thirtieth will call in an airstrike while the rest keep you busy. You have to the count of three."

The soldiers picked targets, turning on laser sights and pointing them at heads and hearts.

"Three."

Seventy Six hefted his battle rifle and prepared to use his automated targeting system, his thumb hovering over the switch but not yet pressing it.

"Two."

McCree had his hand on the hilt of his revolver, ready to destroy their weapons with his scarily precise shots. He was also trying to keep an eye out for if one of them started speaking into a radio. If he could stop that one, it would make it easier for the rest of the agents to get away.

"One."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Came the accented voice of Tracer, she blinked in front of the agents, wobbling a littl gracelessly, having gotten dizzy from spinning in the chair. Each of the soldiers reacted, fifteen of them now aiming at her.

General Falkes eyes widened and he took an involuntary step backwards, before remembering that he was surrounding by thirty of America's best.

"Oxton," the old man said, still giving her some respect, regardless, "You have something to add?"

"A question, or two," she shook off her dizziness and stood straight putting her hands on her hips, "One, why are you even here?"

"You people have been acting as outlaws, making terrorist strikes against companies and-"

"Blah, blah, blah!" she flapped her hand at him, "That's tripe and you know it, Falky. Now, why are you here?"

The general growled at the nickname and the insolence, "Fine, Vishkar has put out bounties on all of you. Two million for McCree. Twenty Million for Seventy Six. Twelve Million for Zarya and Lucio. Twenty five million for Doctor Ziegler. Eighteen million for Reinhardt. One hundred twenty million for Winston..." He trailed off, looking at the Brit.

"And for me?" Tracer asked with a smirk, "What's on my head, huh?"

"Fifty Billion, dead or alive," Falkes said.

The woman whistled, while the newer recruits looked at her with wide, questioning eyes. She paced to the left, the lasers remaining trained on her vitals.

"That's pretty good. Twice what I had expected, honestly," she grinned wide at the general, "And, I suppose, if some of my technology just happens to go missing in transit," she tapped her chronal accelerator, "That you guys will just have to dissapoint Vishkar, huh?"

"It would be unfortunate, but an acceptible loss," Falkes said, neither denying nor confirming.

"Well then, do you mind if I say one thing before you take us in?"

Falkes frowned but nodded, crossing his arms over his still broad chest.

"Semi-auto," she all but purred.

The general paled, going nearly as white as a sheet and his shoulders slumped. He was so shocked and disturbed by that announcement he almost missed the reply from the AI in her weapons.

" _Semi-auto active._ "

"O-open fire!" he yelped, but it was already to late.

Moving with a blue flash, Tracer was amongst the soldiers before they could even receive the order. She slammed her knee into the chest of one, knocking him back and into the six soldiers behind him, sending them all to the floor. Before they could even start to track her movement, she was gone again. Three shots, as precise as McCree had ever made, obliterated radios on six men. Another streak of blue light and Tracer was behind the squad, picking her targets, and opening fire. Twelve more were down before they could turn to see her wave and rewind back to the front, where she drop kicked two, elbowed a third in the jaw and fired on the final nine before zipping over to General Falkes, throwing an arm casually over his shoulder. It also had the benefit of placing the barrel of one of her weapons just over his heart.

Looking around, just to make sure she hasn't missed one, she audibly counted up the score, "Lessee. Six elbows, twenty four knees, one in the bollocks- Sorry, mate-, and fifteen right hands. Oh!" she exclaimed, " And all your fancy guns got an extra bullet to the loading chamber. Sound about right, Falky?"

All in all, it took less than eight seconds for Tracer to do all of that. Now, she had the general in hand, and the man's complexion didn't seem to be getting any better for the proximity.

"Now," she said, a smirk once again on her lips as she looked the pale, but glaring, general in the eye, "You asked who was in charge, Falky. Still curious?" she grabbed him by the chin and pointed his face in the direction of Winston, "He is. He's doing good work. You know it. I know it," She brought his eyes back to hers, "But, if this happens again, I take charge. We remember what happened the last time I was in charge, right?"

The man nodded, not daring to say a word.

She smiled and punched him lightly on the arm, "Good! Let's get going!" She turned and skipped back to the other agents. McCree tipped his hat as she passed, and Seventy Six, if you could believe it, winced. They remembered the last time she was in charge, too.

It was not a good time.


	2. Chapter 2 Tracing Widows

Chapter 2: Tracing Widows

The relationship between Tracer and Widowmaker was often commented on by the many that inhabited the internet. The theories were numerous the fan art... graphic. The fiction even more so.

Tracer found it hilarious. She had, through various methods, gained Widowmaker's email acount name and constantly sent her the racier pictures and stories she found on the internet, often receiving death threats- twice it was a computer virus that gave Athena the digital equivalent of a hangover- and promises of torture in return.

The one thing that blew up the internet, though, was when she used her unbelievable mobility to get a quick selfie taken with the world class assassin. The fan servers nearly imploded when she posted it online with the comment, 'Best Buds,' scrawled out on the bottom in red ink.

Widowmaker had nearly taken her head off in retaliation, and Tracer could still be seen laughing about it every now and again.

In reality, there relationship was far more playfully professional. Ever since Mondatta, Tracer had done her best to stop the woman from getting anywhere close to taking her target, while Widowmaker was having to come up with increasingly subtle and innovative ways to get to her target. Whenever Oxton was involved, though, she found herself completely shut down.

Until, one night, Widowmaker made a mistake.

In an effort to slow her enemy down, Widowmaker shot a child. Not enough to kill, just to critically injure.

Tracer's reaction was... not standard.

The normally playful woman went stiff as a board for a moment before saying into her radio, "Mercy, we've got a civilian down. I repeat, civilian down," she paused, "It's a kid." The reply was swift and the woman handed her radio to the little boy who was gut shot, "Just keep talking into this, and everything will be okay."

With that, the woman stood up, her eyes hardening and her hands clutching the guns so tight that you could hear the fabric creaking.

"Semi-auto."

" _Semi-auto, active._ "

Widowmaker had found a good spot, a premier sniper's nest, and began to track her target. The man she meant to kill had just come out of the highly secure building and, for the next six seconds, she had the perfect opening.

She breathed out slowly and prepared to pull the trigger.

Just before she started to squeeze, a bullet impacted the side of her rifle, knocking it far off course, and hurting her hands.

"What!?" she barked, looking to the side. She almost gasped at the sight.

Tracer stood there, her guns glowing blue, her eyes ablaze from behind her orange goggles.

The assassin tried to swing her gun around, but two more bullets hit it, one in the clip, destroying it, and the second knocked the gun out of her grip and over the balcony.

Thinking quickly, Widowmaker tossed a poison mine at her, the shot her zip line at another ledge on the building to the left.

Tracer shot the mine out of the air, then waited a half second and severed the line with one final bullet, making the assassin fall to the ground. She holstered her weapons and made her own way down.

Widowmaker was a trained weapon of death. A fifty foot fall was a hard sell, but she landed without injury, though she'd be sore tomorrow. Now to make her esc-

There was a sound, almost musical in tone, and then her face met the paved road. She tried to push herself up again, and her face made violent impact with the ground again. A hand gripped her ponytail and pulled her up, looking into her yellow eyes and shattered nose.

"Ya broke the rules, love," Tracer said, then slammed her head down again. The assassin groaned and spat out some of her teeth.

"Yo- Your rules are meani-" again, face met pavement.

"Now, I should really stop here, 'cause you might die, but," she pulled out her gun and shot the sniper in both knees earning screams of pain, "I had to do something to keep you in traction for a few months at least," she patted the assassin on her head and, when she tried to bite her hand she reacted with an elbow to the face that knocked her clean out.

Widowmaker was in custody for less than six hours before she was broken out by the agents of Talon. She was in rehabilitation training for eight months, her nose and teeth had to be rebuilt and replaced. Her weapon was completely irrepairable when they found it so they had to get her a new one. Her knees had to be completely replaced with cybernetics.

And she never even aimed at a child again.


End file.
